Normal
by linkofdiamonds
Summary: Link is anything but normal.


Normal.

Link was normal. Normal for most of his life. He was bullied, yes, but he was normal.

Normal.

He slept in a lot. He lazed around. Link was normal.

Nor...Mal?

Link had terrible dreams of a great apocalypse and it's prevention.

Was he... Normal?

Link's dreams where he woke up in a puddle of his own release was always confusing. He knew he dreamt of another person, but he could never tell the sex of the imaginary partner.

Normal.

Link was not normal as he started out on a great journey, chasing after his best friend.

Not normal.

His heart sped up, a part of him responding to the prowl of the demon, white lips slipping into smirks, touches lingering for hours on his skin, even though the touches were phantoms.

Not normal.

Link's first wet dream after meeting the demon Ghirahim had finally given him an idea on what made him moan. Men did it. He was a freak.

Not normal.

His cheeks burned with shame as he continued his journey, hoping seeing Zelda would help try to correct him. It never did.

Anything but normal.

Seeing Zelda and receiving her harp had nothing to do to set off the yearning he felt towards Ghirahim to touch and feel and taste and take. It confused him, made him wonder why he felt so strange, so foreign.

Nowhere near normal.

The demon and the hero fought again, and Link's mouth was dry as he stared at Ghirahim's strong arms as they clashed and just before he ran away, Ghirahim had brushed his lips against Link's, just to confuse him more, and it had set Link on fire.

Normal wasn't like this.

Link's dreams were filled with heavy pleasure that had the hero arcing up away from the sheets, but grinding back down to gain friction in his sleep, moaning into his pillow. The few times he was woken up too early, he had ground his hips against his stained sheets, longing for the warmth of another person under h.

Normal didn't have a word for it.

He asked Horwell what a man who liked a man was called, and Horwell had watched him carefully before speaking the single syllable that put Link oddly at ease. He had a word to describe another part of him. Gay.

Normal wasn't gay. Normal wasn't the male on male gay.

Zelda never caught his fancy, but watching his friend encase herself in amber still destroyed his heart and he stood, slamming his palms uselessly against it, sobbing for at least an hour after it. She looked like she was asleep.

Normal.

Gay was a part of Link's normal. His normal was slowly accepting the fact he was never going to like women the way he liked men. His normal was accepting that he was attracted to his foe. His normal was accepting himself.

Not normal.

Ghirahim was not normal, and when he showed Link his true colours, he was so down right stunning, Link did not want to harm him. But he had to.

Not normal.

Losing the one you wanted to know more about to something that would have killed a normal man was not easy. But Link was never going to have things normal or easy.

Not his normal.

A part of Link shattered along with the sword Ghirahim had been all along. His normalcy was gone, and he was back to square one.

Normal.

His normal had become nightmares or sleepless nights. His normal had become watching his best friends fall in love. His normal was accepting the man he loved was never going to be his.

Not normal.

His crying was not normal. Not the degree of sobbing. He cried for hours without end sometimes alone.

Normal.

His old definition of normalcy was restored when he felt arms circle around him, fingers resting lightly on his back. The touch made everything flare up into fire, and Link cried harder, pressing his face into soft crimson fabric and hard, chiseled chest.

Not normal.

The way the demon kissed him was not normal for a man and a man, so full of hunger, but it did not matter to Link. The only thing that did was how much Ghirahim mattered, and he gave himself to the demon wholly that night.

Normal.

The weight of the scabbard on his hip and on his back were normal. Ghirahim had become a normal thing for him, and under his tutelage, Link had become deadly with the two swords he carried, facing down monsters beside the man he loved, and occasionally with the weapon he loved.

Normal.

Link was not the definition of normal, nor was Ghirahim. But they were their own and each other's, and nothing else mattered except that.


End file.
